The Time Has Come
by Lady Enigmatic
Summary: Taryn is an ordinary girl, living an ordinary life. One day, two of her favorite TV show characters walk out of her closet, saying they need her help. What follows is the adventure of a lifetime. Featuring characters from other fandoms, i.e. Shawn Spencer from Psych. Alternate title: Psych You Out In A Time of Magic. Made entirely of cheese. Birthday story for Define X.
1. Part 1

**I wrote this multi-fandom story for one of my very best friends, Define X, for her birthday. Names have been changed to protect the guilty—I mean, innocent. ;) Featuring stolen lines, priceless moments, inside jokes, and just a tad of unadulterated… insanity. This is split into three parts, here is the first. **

Disclaimer: **Well, I don't own anything, as you can guess. But Merlin does come to my house for tea sometimes. We make cookies. **

_The Time Has Come: Psych You Out In A Time of Magic _

Taryn was an ordinary girl, in an ordinary life. Not to say that her life was boring; it was just quiet. Nothing unusual ever happened, but that was alright with Taryn. Her teenage days were spent as any other student's was—stressing over schoolwork, and wasting countless hours on the internet. She enjoyed life. Yes, school was taxing, and the online drama was annoying, but all in all, life was good.

Besides, it wasn't just her friends of her family that brought her happiness. The mass of both real and non-real characters from her various favorite media outlets swarmed her mind. Fantasy was a genre she particularly favored. Elvish inscriptions were written in careful sharpie on her wrists, a Prince Caspian poster decorated her door, and the computer screen fell asleep to a screensaver of WHY WE LOVE MERLIN pictures. Of course, she did dip into other fandoms and interests—her fingernails were painted in Bill-Kaulitz-style French Tips, her frequent reply to a funny statement was "You know that's right", and equestrian after equestrian lined her bedroom's walls and ceiling.

It was yet another quiet afternoon. Taryn sat up in room, lying on her bed. "The Lord of the Rings" she held in both hands, while tapping her foot to the sound of the Merlin soundtrack playing through her earphones. She had just managed to slog through her math homework, and was now trying to relax. This was her usual routine.

Suddenly, she heard a noise, a large one, considering that she had heard it over her music. Taking out her earphones, she glanced around her room. "Lana?" she called out accusingly, not wanting her little sister to disturb her. No one answered the call, and she was about to replace her earphone when suddenly, she heard it again—a large thud. It had come from her closet.

Carefully, Taryn got up from her bed, approaching the door slowly. Faintly, she could hear muffled voices from the other side. They sounded familiar, she thought, though she couldn't place them.

"I can't see! Why don't you give us some light, you who has _the power to be powerful_?" said one voice, loud and obnoxious, with a hint of barely-disguised sarcasm.

"I would, if your foot wasn't in my face," answered the other voice, accented and lighter sounding.

"So much for your transportation skills. You should have let me take Gus's GPS."

"Arthur would have had you thrown in the stocks! Those fruits and vegetables don't feel very nice, you know," the other voice protested. "And you promised you would let me try out this new spell. It's not my fault we've—

"Dude, wait. Doorknob! That means..."

"_Tospringe_!"

The door burst open, and Taryn took an involuntary jump backwards. And then, as a figure stepped out from her closet, she did a double take.

"Shawn Spencer?"

The brown-haired, brown-eyed psychic detective stepped into the room, observing his surrounding casually. "That's the name, though in Japan I am known as Master or Sensei, and in some rural areas, Spen-C-Shizzle, but don't ask why they call me that."

Taryn's mouth dropped open, and for a moment, all she could was stare. Was she seeing who she thought she was seeing? This could not be possible. There was just no way.

"Wait! Don't scream!" said Shawn, forming a cross with his index fingers.

Taryn was somehow able to overcome her shock long enough to retaliate, a bit defensively, "I wasn't going to." Shawn looked relieved, and lowered his cross.

A crash came from inside Taryn's closet, and a second figure finally stumbled out, his limbs flailing wildly. He was tall and pale, with dark hair, and a tattered red neckerchief tied loosely around his neck. There was no question about it—he was most definitely Merlin.

Okay. This was getting really weird. There was not only one, but two lead characters from two of her favorite TV shows standing in her room. Taryn tried to tell herself not to freak out, to take this calmly, as any fangirl told herself she would. However, now that she was standing in the presence of two men who she talked about constantly, and one in particular whom she blushed, fantasized, and obsessed over, she realized how impossible it would be to remain calm.

Breathing in and out deeply, she looked up into Merlin's beautiful blue eyes, and said in what she tried to make her most non-girly, serious voice, "Hi, Merlin." Unfortunately for Taryn, this came out as more of a breathy squeak than a normal-sounding greeting.

Shawn sighed, disappointed. "Why don't they ever look at me like that?"

"Like what?" Merlin asked, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.

Shawn face-palmed. Obviously this guy was clueless of the effect he had on just about every girl fan of his. Girls never reacted this way when they saw Shawn. He knew he wasn't Justin Bieber or anything, but he thought they could at least squeal once in awhile. Maybe it was because he didn't have a cutesy foreign accent, like _this_ guy did. Note to self: start speaking in an Irish accent, as soon as possible. Note to self, part two: Use the word _caves_—a lot.

"Like that," Shawn answered, pointing to Taryn, who's eyes were now glazed over slightly as she stared in wonder at the 'pasty Irish boy' in front of her. Merlin followed Shawn's finger, and a bashful smile flickered on his face.

And then, Shawn added, "Hanger," pointing to the wire hanger that hung around Merlin's arm. It seemed that the closet had refused to let him go easily. Embarrassed, Merlin quickly tugged the contraption off of him, tossing it back into the closet—secretly hoping Taryn hadn't seen.

Taryn pinched herself. And once more, just to be safe. Ouch. Nope, this was not a dream. You couldn't feel pain in your dreams—or could you? Holy crap. That meant that this was really happening. Maybe she was going insane. Too much math homework, that was what had caused this. Finally, she had a solution—her excuse to rid herself of the subject she detested would be to plead insanity.

She blinked once, then twice, and then ten times. Yup. They were still there, Merlin with that adorkable grin on his face and Shawn waving slightly. "I must be hallucinating," she murmured out loud.

"No, you're not," countered Shawn and Merlin, reacting simultaneously.

A voice echoed down the hallway, and footsteps approached Taryn's bedroom door. It was her younger sister, Lana. Two thoughts raced through her mind simultaneously: _Holy cow, this is awkward_ and _Hide!_. Merlin and Shawn were quickly shoved back into the closet, none too gracefully. Just as the doorknob was turning, Taryn threw herself back onto her bed, panting slightly.

Lana peeked her head into her sister's room. "Did you hear something?"

Taryn, answering quickly without planning on what she would say, said, "No." Then, changing her mind, she said, "Actually yes! Yes. That noise was, um…me, practicing my…dance moves. You know, because it's today and all."

"What's so special about today?" asked Lana slowly, clearly not knowing what Taryn was referring to.

"Oh, you know—today is " 'Only 128 Days Till The Hobbit Comes Out' day!" Taryn said, trying to keep her voice from reaching another octave without having much success. Why was she suddenly incapable of making convincing stuff up?

Her sister gave her a dubious look as she repeated back what she had told her, "You were practicing your dance moves for a movie that comes out four months from now?"

Taryn bobbed her head up and down. "Yup, that's right. Uh-huh. I am breaking it down in this here house. And I really, really need some privacy, you know, to perfect everything. So could you leave now?" She smiled nicely, and then proceeded to stare her younger sibling down until the girl finally exited the room.

"You're strange," her sister called as she left, and shot her another doubtful look as she walked down the hall back to her room.

Taryn, still smiling, shut the door to her room. Trying to keep her voice even, she spoke into the seemingly empty room, "You can come out now, that is, if you're real and not just figments of my imagination."

They weren't, apparently. Shawn stumbled out of her closet, Merlin close behind. "You're almost as bad a liar as Merlin," Shawn said, and then laughed at his own irony.

Merlin sniffed, opening his mouth to protest. For four entire seasons he had kept the magic secret from nearly everyone, and Shawn was calling _him_ a bad liar? But maybe that was a good thing—it meant he was trustworthy. Before he could reply with a decently witty retort, Shawn pointed out,

"Hanger."

Merlin looked down at his arm, where once again the infernal thing had attached itself to his clothing. Throwing it away, he turned back to Taryn, his face flushing again.

"Well, it's not every day that two fictional characters pop out of my closet! The shock I am suffering from might have impaired my ability to make up crap," Taryn replied, breathing heavily. Forcing herself to get a grip, she managed to calmly ask the intruders, "Now—what were you doing in my closet?"

Both tried to answer at the same time, and after glaring at each other a moment, Shawn said, "We need your help."

This was not the answer Taryn had expected. They needed _her _help? A wave of seriousness washed over both the psychic and the warlock. There was no laughter in their eyes. No funny business anymore, or at least for the moment.

"You need my help?" she repeated, and then inwardly cringed, realizing how dumb that sounded.

"That _is_ what we kind of just said," said the detective drolly.

"Shawn," warned Merlin.

"Sorry. But time is of the essence here!" he said, tapping his wrist to symbolize and invisible watch. "Mrs. Pickles needs us."

Merlin refrained from rolling his eyes, and addressed Taryn, who was by now slowly beginning to adjust to the sight of two of her favorite TV characters standing in her bedroom—not a hologram, not Colin Morgan and James Roday, but the actual, fictional characters.

"Morgana and Lassiter," he began, and Shawn coughed pointedly. Merlin corrected himself, "_Lassy_, have kidnapped the loved and esteemed Mrs. Pickles. We found a note that I believe Mrs. Pickles left for us to find. The note said that we will be able to follow a set of clues to rescue her. But the clues can only be interpreted by someone very special and elite."

Taryn nodded slowly, as if she understood, though her brain was in a state of denial. They couldn't possibly be serious. If it weren't for the earnest plea in Merlin's eyes, she would have laughed, long and hard. _Mrs. Pickles_ was a orange tLana cat invented by Shawn's detective partner, Gus, in order to buy Shawn enough time to look around for clues in a suspect's home. This thought begged the question: Where _was_ Gus? Shawn was almost always with his buddy.

"Where's Gus?" she asked, and for a moment, Shawn was caught off guard.

"I think he's at the Psych office—trying to beat my Just Dance high score probably," he recovered, shrugging his shoulders. "What can I say? I have wicked moves."

"And where's Arthur?" Taryn inquired, this time turning to Merlin, who didn't fully meet her gaze.

"Kingly duties call, you know," he answered vaguely, and Shawn nodded, seconding his answer. "And I'm pretty sure he think I'm at the tavern."

"Why didn't you go to them with this—erm, _problem_?" she asked, still not seeing where she fit into all this, and still unsure of whether or the tLana cat truly existed.

"_Because_," said Shawn exasperatedly, his patience thinning, "Gus would be devastated if he knew Mrs. P was missing. Don't you think so, Merlin?" he said staring at his companion pointedly.

"Oh, yeah," said Merlin, taking his cue. "It would tear him apart. We couldn't let that happen—not after the first time she went missing."

Okay. That was it—she couldn't take this anymore. "Guys, come on! Mrs. Pickles is not real," Taryn said, letting out a disbelieving laugh. Both the psychic and the warlock stared at her, dumbstruck looks on their faces. Merlin's mouth actually dropped open. He was clearly shocked, if not appalled by, what she had said.

There was no joke in Shawn's eyes as he told her, "Mrs. Pickles is just as real as you and I are, Taryn."

"And me," Merlin added, reminding Shawn of his existence in the equation.

"And Merlin," said Shawn, throwing an apologetic look in his companion's direction.

"If you can't do it for Mrs. Pickles, at least do it for the women and children, Taryn."

"What?" choked Taryn, not really sure what he meant. "Okay," said Taryn, although she wasn't sure how to take what they had just said. "And Arthur can't be included in this because?"

Fear crossed both of their faces. "Psychic-awesomeness is just as bad as magic-awesomeness in his book, right Merly?" Shawn asked him, and the warlock nodded grimly.

"Definitely—and I think the fact you tried to psychically read the color of his underwear the day you met him, to prove your abilities, might have been a factor as well. Let's just say I wouldn't color Arthur impressed."

The psychic was hurt. "Hey—I had every chance of being right. How was I to know that purple polka dots aren't all the rage in Camelot?" he protested, crossing his arms and his lips forming a pout. "He was just probably too proud to admit that I had guessed correctly."

"So why do need me?" Taryn asked quickly to change the subject, frantically trying to rid her mind of the image of Arthur in his underwear—in polka dots, for crying out loud!

"Because you are Taryn—_the_ Taryn, the one and only!" Shawn said holding his hand up for a high-five, which Taryn awkwardly returned.

"What Shawn is trying to say is the note Mrs. Pickles left led us to you," Merlin explained. "Only you will know the answer to these clues she has given to us." He pulled out a worn piece of paper from his pocket, and handed it to Taryn. She took it hesitantly. Although this excited her, a part of her was still unsure whether or not this was all in her head.

"What _Merlin_ is trying to say is, Taryn," Shawn formed an expression of extreme morbidity, and said in his best deep, British voice, "The time has come."

Merlin nodded, "Exactly." Then, realizing he had no idea what his companion had just said, he asked, "Wait, what?"

"Never mind, I just always wanted to say that," said Shawn, shrugging. Motioning to Taryn, he told her, "Go ahead, read it."

"_In a land of fantasy and a time of awesome, the fate of an orange tLana rests on the shoulders of a young woman. Her name is Taryn_," the girl read, and then paused, thinking, "That sounds very familiar. Where have I heard that before?"

"Just keep reading," Merlin advised hastily, and Taryn continued.

"_Clues of what is, what was, and what has not yet come to pass will guide you to your destination._ Now I know I've heard _that_ somewhere! Do you have the first clue?"

Merlin took the paper from Taryn, and stared at it. His eyes flashed gold as he murmured a spell of old, forgotten words, and text slowly began to appear. "Wow," Taryn breathed, unable to contain her inner fangirling for a moment. "That is so cool." She loved it when Merlin used magic; there were no words adequate to describe the feeling it gave her. She could remember countless squeals and sighs as she had watched three entire seasons of Merlin in succession, finishing them in only a few months.

Merlin grinned, a bit bashfully. "What is?"

"You—doing magic. I think it's one of the coolest things I've ever seen," Taryn said honestly, and the two shared a smile. Shawn felt left out of the mildly flirtatious look that passed between them, so he decided to ruin the moment.

"Wow, the awkward moment when no one fangirls over you. You know that spell is just replacing heat right? I mean, the clues are written in invisible ink. He totally could have breathed on the paper and it would have had the same effect," he pointed out, and Merlin and Taryn glared at him.

"I could manage a giggle, if it would make you feel better, Shawn," offered Merlin brightly. Clearly he was enjoying this attention—a bit too much, the psychic thought.

"The clue," the psychic prodded, clearly fed up with the many delays, and Taryn looked down again at the parchment.

"_The orange orbs only consumed during annual marathons will send you to the middle. Seek, and you will find. Eat, and you will leave,_" she read.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" asked Shawn loudly in his best Cockney accent.

Merlin, amused and slightly disturbed by his friend's attempt, replied in his best American accent, "I have no idea, man."

"Vell it haz to mean zamzing!" said Shawn, switching to a highly overdone German accent, waving his hand in the air dramatically.

"Maybe we have to pass through the land of shadow," said Merlin in a strange and wispy voice. Shawn just stared, unsure of what kind of dialect Merlin had been trying to imitate.

"What kind of accent was _that_?"

"I was going for Elvish," answered Merlin honestly.

Shawn stared at his strange companion. "Nerd," he coughed.

Taryn rolled her eyes, wondering if it was going to be like this the entire time. "We have to eat something," she thought aloud, trying to work through the riddle. "Something orange, and round, and only eaten once a year." It would be only something that she would know. "Eaten during marathons… maybe it's not _that_ kind of marathon. Wait! I think I've got it!"

Merlin and Shawn looked up from their intense staring contest, excitement clearly shown on their faces.

"Cheese balls," she said, and hastily gave an explanation for her conclusion as the two men covered their mouths to keep from laughing. "For my birthday, I always invite my friends over to my house to watch all three of the Lord of the Rings movies. It's one of our traditions to eat cheese balls. That has to be what it means!"

"Cool!" said Shawn, mimicking the enthusiasm in Taryn's voice, "Now, where are these little guys?"

And thus began what was aptly dubbed by Shawn as Operation: Eat The Cheeseballs, also known by Merlin as Operation: Don't-Get-Caught-By-Taryn's-Little-Sister-Or-Anyone-Else-For-That-Matter-Using-Magic-As-Strictly-Necessary. Needles to say, they decided to go with the shorter title.

Taryn went down the stairs first, peering around the corner to make sure no one was there. No matter what, the two fictional characters that had invaded her afternoon could not be seen by anyone. Half of her was scared of what her family would say if they saw them, the other half of her was scared that they might not see them at all—making Shawn and Merlin figments of Taryn's obviously overactive imagination. Too much math, that's all she could figure.

Next went Shawn, fingers held in the shape of a gun and humming Mission Impossible music slightly off-key under his breath. Merlin was right behind him, hands raised above his head as if gripping some invisible object tightly.

"Dude, what is that supposed to be?" whispered Shawn, pointing his 'gun' at Merlin's miming hands.

Merlin gaped in disbelief. Wasn't it obvious? Apparently not to some people, namely 21st century psychic detectives. "It's a _sword_," he said finally, and Shawn just raised his eyebrows. Merlin huffed, a bit disgruntled. Nobody understood him.

Taryn motioned them forward with her hand, and one by one they entered her kitchen, Merlin waving his invisible sword proudly above his head, and Shawn backing up against Merlin, classily aiming his 'gun' at every entrance point.

It didn't take long to locate the sought after item. There it sat, on the counter, tempting every passerby with its cheesy-goodness. After double-checking to make sure the coast was clear, Taryn opened the lid of the large container. Shawn and Merlin ditched their make-believe weapons, reaching in and grabbing a cheeseball.

Taryn scrutinized the small powdery orange puff in her hand. Part of her wanted to laugh and wake up from what could only be an impossible dream, another part of her wanted to believe that all of this was real. "These are going to transport us somewhere else?" she asked, more to herself than to her companions.

"Well, these aren't ordinary cheeseballs, Taryn," said Shawn seriously, "They are psychedelic-

"Magic," added Merlin helpfully.

"Cheeseballs. These will bring us to the next clue, I'm sure of it."

Taryn still looked doubtful.

"Please Taryn, your lack of faith is very unbecoming. Live a little!" said Shawn, the whine very clear in his voice. Sighing, Taryn raised the cheeseball to her mouth, having a very bad feeling that nothing was going to happen, and she was going to end up looking very, very stupid. Then again, believing any of this was kind of stupid—yet she found herself, against her will, excited at the prospect of magical cheeseballs and a very much alive Mrs. Pickles.

"On three, alright?" prepped Merlin, and he cautiously began to raise the cheeseball to his mouth.

"One."

"Two."

Taryn had barely said "three" and allowed the cheeseball to slide past her lips when she became aware that what had used to be her kitchen was no longer her kitchen. She felt a keen dizziness, and a sudden feeling that she was falling, before the world came to a sudden halt. When she opened her eyes seemingly decades later, it occurred to her that she was no longer standing in the world she had known all her life.


	2. Part 2

**And Taryn's adventure continues...**

_Part 2_

The first thing Taryn saw was green. Endless, and beautiful, green. Drawing in a deep breath, she noted how this world smelled different; everything seemed much more alive here—in fact, nature itself seemed to be singing.

As she let out a long exhale, she suddenly knew with every fiber of her being what this place was. She had dreamed of it, read nearly every book about it, and now she was finally here—where her heart was.

Feeling the need to attract attention, Shawn touched his middle finger to his temple, closing his eyes and waving a dramatic hand in the air. "I am getting very strong psychic vibes that we have landed in-

"Middle-Earth," Taryn uttered, her eyes filling with a radiance that would put the sun to shame. Feeling nearly surreal, she took in her surroundings with a keen sense of interest.

"Umm, yes. Very middle-earthy," commented Shawn, trying and failing to disguise his lack of enthusiasm, and slight annoyance over the fact that Taryn had beaten him to the chase. He had never been much of a nature-lover, or a Lord of the Rings fan for that matter, he just wanted to show off his "psychic" abilities.

Merlin, on the other hand, was taking in the sights before him with curious eyes. "This place _is_ magical," he mused aloud, and Taryn murmured in agreement. The two stared in wonder of the charisma of the ancient world. "Oh, and Shawn, everyone _knows_ you're not a real psychic." He did not say this meanly, as Merlin lacked the capability to be mean, but as a reminder that he really didn't have to pretend in front of them.

Yet, Shawn looked offended. "Really, dude? That's how you want to play? Oh, so like everyone knows you're a sorcerer now?" Merlin suddenly had wide, fearful eyes.

In a quiet and frantic whisper, he chided his companion, "That's not until Season 5!" Feeling the girl's suspicious eyes on him, he gave her a broad smile, as if to say that there was nothing to see here.

"Look! The card is changing again," said Shawn, happy to have a reason to change the subject. Eagerly, he jabbed a pointing finger at the piece of parchment Taryn still held.

She paused in her awestruck exploration of her surroundings long enough to glance at the new clue that had appeared. _"What has captured your heart will carry you beyond the world, to the end of time, where the rain (and arrow) will not hurt. Seek and you will find, search and you will see. It will be obvious," _she read, not having a clue what it meant, only knowing that once again—the words felt familiar, yet different somehow.

"Hmm," was all Shawn and Merlin could think to say. They looked at each other, then at the paper, and then up at Taryn, puzzled expressions on their faces They didn't understand what it meant either, apparently. That was just great. Her companions weren't turning out to be knowledgeable about what these clues meant. Eye-candy, yes. Helpful, no.

What had captured her heart? Lots of things, over the years, she supposed. _It will be obvious._ The faint words flashed onto the parchment before disappearing again. Vainly, she tried to think of all the things she should be on the look out for: characters from her favorites media, lyrics from her favorite songs, God?

"You know what always helps me think when I'm on a case? Red Vines. Hey Merly, help a brother out and give me one of those delicious twirls of scarlet," Shawn, interrupting her train of thought.

Merlin gave Shawn a confused look. "I don't have any."

"What? You didn't bring Red Vines? Dude. I mean, it was on the shopping list and everything," Shawn said loudly, in obvious distress. Red Vines were, after all, essential to the success of his psychic vibes and restoring the balance to nature. (And here I quote:_ What does that even mean? I have no idea!_ Yes I'm a nerd, DEAL WITH IT.)

"I may or may not have been able to read your atrocious handwriting," Merlin said in his defense, a small smirk breaking through his serious composure.

"Almost-a-genius," muttered Shawn.

"Dollop-head," Merlin shot back.

Shawn paused a moment, thinking furiously for a retort, "Emrys!"

"How is that even an insult? Clod-pole."

"What do those things even mean, man?" asked Shawn, momentarily unable to think of an appropriate comeback. After all, it was pretty hard to come up with something as weird and yet oddly insulting as the things Merlin called him. Where did he come up with these things?

"I don't really know—but they're popular insults, apparently, because I say them in nearly ever fan fiction story written about me," Merlin replied thoughtfully.

"Wait—you read fan fiction?" Shawn and Taryn asked simultaneously. Merlin blushed, embarrassed.

"Don't pretend like you _don't_, Shawn. You Shassie lover you," he retaliated. Shawn gasped, and clutched his heart, as if mortally wounded by the warlock's words. Merlin had apparently gone too far with that jab; Shawn's eyes were wide with revulsion and disbelief.

What followed was a series of comebacks and shenanigans. As the two men bickered between themselves, exchanging friendly but unoriginal insults such as "psychic faker" and "magic hider", Taryn walked further into the woods. The next clue, or at least, an answer to the previous clue, had to be hidden in plain sight somewhere around here, she supposed. Whatever it was, it would be obvious.

She glanced from one tree to the next, unsure of what to do next. One in particular caught her eye. Carved into its trunk was the figure of a horse. Intrigued, Taryn walked up to it, admiring the artist's work.

"Guys! I found something," she called out, and her companions dropped their arguing at once, rushing to her side in a competition of who could get there the fastest. Their banter seemed to have come to a halt, though every now and then Shawn would elbow Merlin in the ribs, and in response Merlin would step on Shawn's toe.

As she reached the tree traced the outline of the horse, she suddenly felt something whoosh past her. An stray arrow thudded into the tree beside her, and all three of them froze. "What was that?" she asked them slowly. Both looked slightly sheepish, as she realized they must have expected the attack beforehand.

"That," said Merlin, pointing in the direction the arrow had come for emphasis, "Would be the great battle between the canonists and the Mary Sue's. You see, things aren't going so great in this part of Middle Earth right now. A bunch of fans are having issues over what is and what isn't a trait of Tolkien's characters."

"Why are they shooting at _us_?" Taryn asked, slightly anxious, as all three of them began to contemplate running from the flying arrows, axes, and other miscellaneous weaponry. Luckily for them, the fans appeared to have very bad aim.

"Not sure," answered Shawn, a bit worriedly. "I thought we were Switzerland: neutral as can be, and good with chocolate. And speaking of which—

"We need to figure out what that clue was supposed to mean. Now." Merlin decided. Shawn nodded, surrendering his sugar needs for the greater good. Both men looked at Taryn expectantly.

Well, it all came down to her. Gulping, she looked wildly around the forest. She had no idea what the clue, or Mrs Pickles, thought had captured her heart. This was too hard, too sudden. Pressure was never something that pushed her to greatness. And preforming under stress was not one of her strengths.

The attackers were coming closer to where the three of them were standing. Apparently being neutral was not an option. Taryn herself leaned towards the canonist side of things, though she didn't think it wise to voice that aloud at the moment. It felt stupid to be right in the way of the lumbering fans and not run away, but they didn't really have a choice. In order to move on, they had to figure out the clue first.

What could the answer be? Her eyes moved once again to the carving of the horse, and something inside her clicked. She cringed realizing how elementary it was, wanting to kick herself for well, its obviousness. "Of course!" she cried, after what seemed to be hours, in the mindset of the sorcerer and the psychic. "Horses," she said, knowing that they had been her passion from the very start, save a small obsession with zebras for a few years. But besides, they were related anyway. "That's what captured my heart, and that's what will carry us through-

She did not get to finish her sentence, because as soon as the words left her mouth there was a very loud, sudden clap of hooves against the ground. Time itself seemed to stand still, and all movement was in slow-motion. Three magnificent beasts trotted gracefully up beside the tree with the carving, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere. Their manes were long and shimmered with light, their coats were glossy and groomed to perfection. The first was Shadowfax, white and beautiful. The next was Hidalgo, strong and wild. The third was a black horse Taryn did not recognize, mysterious and mystic.

This was a very monumental, powerful moment for Taryn. Here before her were three of the most fantastical creatures she had dreamed of. Most of her life revolved around horses, whether she was riding,watching, or drawing them. It was awe-inspiring—and that was an understatement.

Once again, it was Shawn who ruined the moment. Merlin, having had to accompany Arthur on multiple occasions to far away places on horseback and having a natural respect towards the creature, was more kind.

"I am so not getting on one of those things," was Shawn's first response, his arms folded determinedly. Though from the battle cries and fast approaching warring fans, it was clear that he didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

"Come on, Shawn," called Merlin, as he and Taryn mounted the patient animals.

The things were unsafe, in Shawn's opinion. They didn't even have seat belts, and everyone knew that safety was supposed to come first. And safety was obviously very compromised without seat belts.

The psychic sighed, and regretfully managed to get up on top of the horse without too much difficulty. As soon as he was up, the animals did not wait for a command. They took off at once, cantering at speeds unimaginable through forest and meadow. The protests of the fighting Ringers and those who could be considered unworthy of the title faded to the rhythm of hoofbeats on soft earth.

Surely they were still in Middle Earth, Taryn thought, but it was very hard to tell because of how fast her surroundings were passing by. It was a wonder that she did not fall off, but strangely she found it wasn't difficult to hold on. The sensation of flying crossed her mind, beyond the world, to a place that only existed in dreams. Minutes, or maybe days passed before Taryn realized that it was raining steadily. They were riding through a monsoon.

The horses finally came to a stop, after slowing gently to a gallop, then a graceful trot, until finally a leisurely walk. The blur of her quickly passing surroundings and dulled noise of her atmosphere had completely entranced Taryn. Now, that trance was broken. She swung off the patient creature regretfully. That had been one of the most pleasant rides she had ever experienced.

Looking to her other companions, she saw that Merlin had managed to dismount just fine, although the term "dismount" did not seem to be a regular part of Shawn's vocabulary, or skills. He glanced despairingly at the ground, which to him seemed several stories high—yet in reality, he was barely three feet from the ground. It took some advice from Merlin, which was promptly disregarded, and some coaxing from Taryn to get Shawn to come down. Finally, his feet touched the ground, and he was off. The second his fingers were unclenched from the horse's mane, all three creatures vanished.

All three peered into the mist that hung in the places where the three beauties had been formerly, as if mentally trying to bring them back. But nothing appeared. They were all alone, surrounded by a threshold of lonely trees and silence.

They had stopped in a most unusual place. The world was different once again. Where they were, Taryn wasn't entirely sure. Here the air was still tainted with mystery and age, as Middle-Earth had been, but somehow, she knew it wasn't anymore. In front of them stood an enormous stone wall. It ran as far as they could see either way, and was so high it seemed to nearly touch the sky. It was clearly impeding them from moving any further.

"Well, now what?" asked Shawn loudly, not having enjoyed what he would refer to as the pony-ride-while-it-was-raining-cats-and-dogs.

Taryn, however, was trying to suppress the feeling that she rather liked seeing Merlin soaking wet. In fact, he looked mighty fine. He should really have to stand in the rain more often during the series. In fact, it should just rain in Camelot all the time, every show.

"Is there another clue?" prodded Merlin, breaking Taryn from her thoughts. Blushing, she glanced down at the paper again, desperately hoping that the young warlock did not posses mind-reading abilities.

"_Now out of the rain comes something you hate. A problem you must solve. The answer will show you the world behind the wall, and take you to a lake without a sword_," Taryn read the words that had replaced those of the former clue. Why did it seem like these were getting harder and less helpful every time?

"Since when do lakes have swords?" asked Shawn, and Merlin huffed, as if he knew something the psychic did not, and was frustrated because he could not tell him.

"Dude, look at the wall!" Shawn shouted, and walked up closer to the gray structure before them. Scribbled in hasty black ink, some sort of complicated formula was appearing. The problem spread out as far as their eyes could see on either side of the wall.

"What is this, rocket science?" the psychic asked rhetorically, his mind totally blown.

"It appears to be some form of advanced mathematics," answered Merlin slowly, trying to ingest the confusing equation.

Taryn groaned. She hated math. No, she really did. There were very few things she really, really hated in this lifetime, and all things mathematician was one of them. She glanced down at the parchment again, searching it for another clue or way around this obstacle. There were no hints, no winks, no suggestions—just one direct order: _Find x. _

"You have got to be kidding me. I'm supposed to do _math_?" Taryn cried, not caring how whiny she sounded. Okay, maybe she was laying on the dramatics a little thick—after all, all she had really had to do so far was eat a cheeseball and ride a horse. But she couldn't help it. Math was some form of twisted torture that smartypants people had contrived in order to discourage the creative and the artistic. Well, that was her thesis, anyway. It was up for debate.

Blinking, Taryn turned to Shawn. He was older than she was, and for all she knew, smarter. Maybe he could be of some assistance. Upon realizing what she wanted, Shawn shook his head. "I didn't even pass high-school algebra. I better sit this one out," he bailed immediately, raising his hands in a no-can-do posture.

Pleadingly, Taryn turned to Merlin with wide imploring eyes. The dude was a freaking warlock and a Dragonlord! Surely his abilities were not just limited to wielding powers of nature. He gave her a small, sad smile, along with a shake of his head. "I'm afraid I lived long before equations like this had been discovered. You'll have to do this one alone."

"Thanks, guys," Taryn grumbled as she stepped up to the wall. It was at least worth a try, right? But upon glancing up at the huge, intricate patterns, graphing, numbers and letters before her, Taryn was sure that her trying would not get her very far. It was so advanced, Taryn was not entirely sure that half of it truly existed. Someone just wanted to make her anxious, that was it. This was just mean.

In fact, now that she thought about it—the clue had not told her to solve for _x_, or to determine what _x_ was equal to. All it had said was to find _x_, to locate it. But surely it couldn't be that simple. The mere thought made her laugh, and then sigh, depressed. Nope, she was totally screwed.

Then again, maybe it _was_ worth a try. Perhaps it would get her father than her previous trying had got her. Squinting up at the wall, she scoured the surface with her eyes, trying to find the infernal variable.

Finally, she found it. It was actually pretty much right in front of her too, which made her feel a tad dumb. Nevertheless, she strode up to the _x_, drawing a swooping circle around the letter in mock triumph. "Found it," she muttered, not really all that satisfied, and sure that her juvenile shortcut could not possibly be the answer to the problem.

Yet, it is a wonder that some things, despite their simplicity, can be the most reasonable, true answers of all. As she lifted her finger from the stone, the entire wall began to shift in groan. Impossibly, the impeding structure moved apart, forming an entrance into another part of the forest.

Behind the wall, it was yet again an entirely different environment. There was a lake before them, shining and beautiful. Light reflected off the surface, brightening the surrounding trees and shrubbery. There were flowers here too, and lilies along the edges. Everything was fresh and new—yet there was something old, renowned about this place. She could almost taste the sense of history and destiny that swirled around her, and hear the ancient voices of legend and myth.

"I know where we are," murmured Taryn aloud, because deep down, once again, she knew she did. Yet, she couldn't say exactly where they were. After a few minutes of frustrated thinking, she gave up. "Okay, where are we?" she asked her amused companions.

"Welcome to the Lake of Avalon, Taryn," Merlin said, smiling.


	3. Part 3

**And here is the concluding chapter to Taryn's little story!  
**

_Part 3_

They were at the lake of Avalon. This was the place where magic had happened, where legend had become reality. The ancient sword Excalibur was raised from the depths by a dead, beloved hand. She who had died had been laid down on a pier of flowers, set to fire. The lake itself was rumored to be gateway to the underworld.

Merlin was smiling at her reaction, Taryn noticed, though the smallest shade of sadness had crossed his eyes. And she knew why.

After the initial wowing was over, Taryn glanced down at the parchment. Because, after all, that was why she was here. This was turning out to be quite a long adventure—she surely hoped her absence had not been noticed at home.

Two words appeared after a few moments, along with a line of some sort of code. This had to be the shortest, most straight-forward clue she had received yet.

"Well, what does it say?" called Merlin from behind her, and Taryn frowned.

"It says: _Turn around_. That's all," she told him, confused, willing more words to appear on the parchment. None came. All that remained was the odd phrase that she couldn't read. The letters were backwards—or something. Maybe it was a code? Special symbols meant to represent something? Greek?

"How about you do something no one has thought of before: _Do what it says_," suggested Shawn, though there was affection behind his sarcasm. And try as he might, he was unable to hide the mysterious grin that was peeking out from behind his serious composure.

Doubtful that turning around would get them any farther in their avid journey to find Mrs. Pickles, Taryn slowly turned around. Merlin was holding up a mirror. For a few seconds, she just looked into it, staring at her reflection and feeling rather stupid. A few moments later, an idea occurred to her. Wanting to kick herself for not realizing it sooner, she held the paper tup the mirror.

At once, the letters righted themselves, and the words made sense. However, they did not offer another clue to finding Mrs. Pickles. What she read made her blush, and want to scream with frustration, melt into a puddle of fangirlish awe, and laugh at the silliness of it all at the same time.

"What does it say, Taryn?" asked Merlin playfully, a grin also beginning to light his face, and Taryn bashfully read the card aloud.

"_Happy birthday, Taryn! Love, Shawn and Merlin_," Taryn read, her cheeks coloring. As soon as she she had read the sentiment, she ducked her head, bringing up her hands to cover her face. It occurred to her that all along, throughout everything that had happened, _this_ had been their objective—not to save Mrs. Pickles, but to surprise her.

Clearly, the element of surprise had not been breached all during their adventure. Taryn hadn't the foggiest suspicion that the adventure they had set out on had anything at all to due with her and Shawn gave each other the classic psych fist-bump, in triumph of their success of Taryn's happiness.

"Oh, you _guys_," the emotionally wrought girl managed to get out, holding out her arms in what her companions interpreted as a immediate want, or need rather, for a group hug. After she released them from her embrace, Shawn tastefully retrieved a tissue from his pocket, offering it to the girl. A tad embarrassed at her girlish behavior, Taryn took the tissue, dabbing her eyes where a few feel-induced tears had formed. A chorus of Happy-Birthday! and Surprise! came from the psychic and the warlock, and it was all Taryn could do to manage thank-you.

"So where is Mrs. Pickles, then? I assume she wasn't kidnapped," said Taryn finally, achieving an eventual, but only temporary, hold on her emotions.

"Making potato chips of course," said Shawn cockily. Taryn gave him a blank look. "Mrs. Pickle's Potato Chips? Never heard of them?" he asked, shocked. "To not eat her potato chips is a hate crime. You should be heaped with shame!"

But there was no time to be heaped with shame, because Merlin clearly had other activities planned for the celebration of Taryn's birthday. As they walked over closer to the lake, Taryn saw that decorations of every color were looped all the way around lake. There was a great diversity of balloons, streamers, and confetti that dotted the forested landscape. Why hadn't she seen them before? There was a table set up, with chairs, along with the appropriate plates, napkins and silverware. The entire scene was picturesque; Shawn and Merlin had made everything colorful and coordinated.

From behind a significantly wide and large tree, a figure emerged, wearing a cutesy chef's apron and mitts and carrying a chocolate cake topped with candles. As he came closer, Taryn recognized him to be Gus, Shawn's crime-solving partner and friend. Although most of her still felt the shock of seeing a fictional character walking towards her, it was at least a bit less mind-blowing now that she had been talking to Merlin and Shawn, who were also fictional characters.

Rounds of greeting passed between Gus, Shawn and Merlin, who had apparently been planning this thing together from the beginning. And now that the team of Gus and Shawn was reunited, there would be so stopping the resulting bickering and joshing between them. Taryn received a hug from Gus, and birthday well-wishes.

"You made me cake, too? You really didn't have to all this," Taryn gestured to the above-and-beyond atmosphere. Her mouth watered as Gus setting the delicious dessert down on the table. Truly, it looked _that _good. One could never go wrong with chocolate.

"Well, Merlin really needs to get out more. He spends too much time at the tavern. That's where we met, actually," Shawn answered, and he winked at Taryn. She smiled in response, understanding. Merlin just rolled his eyes, wishing for the millionth time Gaius had thought of a different excuse for him. "Besides," the psychic continued, "Gus was really excited to try out his new Betty Crocker cookbook."

Gus frowned. "My _Martha Stewart_ cookbook. Get your facts right, brother." Merlin seconded that with a loud "mmm-hmm". After all, there was a _big_ difference between the two different cookbooks—a big difference.

"Whatever. Since when do you bake in a tree?" Shawn asked his friend, pointing towards the large trunk from which behind Gus had emerged.

"Nothing's better than a cake baked in a tree, Shawn," Gus replied seriously.

Shawn scoffed. "Says who, Keebler?"

His friend ignored the comment. "And plus, it's good for the enviornment."

"Thank you, Sir Gus the Green. The world owes you one," was Shawn's witty reply, and Taryn laughed. It was entertaining to see their interactions with each other.

"By the way, I did invite a few friends. I figured they would want to meet Taryn as well," said Merlin, changing the subject, after Taryn's laughter had quieted.

At that moment, cars, carriages and horses began showing up all around the lake, parking wherever there was a large enough space. It was clear to see that Merlin's definition of "a few" was quite a deal larger than Gus's. A frown settled over Gus's face, but Shawn's seemed to be excited by the increasing number of party guests. More people to humiliate at limbo!

"Uh, Merlin? Just how many friends did you invite?" asked Gus evenly, though his eyes had widened slightly.

Before the warlock could make a reasonable estimate, a huge ship emerged from the depths of the Lake of Avalon. As the dragonhead figure emerged, Taryn recognized it as the Dawn Treader.

"I'm going to go make another cake," said Gus, a bit huffily, as he walked back to the tree. Merlin offered his assistance, feeling a bit guilty at not having forewarned the assigned baker as to how many people there would be at the gathering.

An unbelievable amount of people came off of the Dawn Treader. There were a handful of elves from Mirkwood, King Aragorn and Queen Arwen, the entire Fellowship. Queen Lucy was there as well, along with King Edmund, King Caspian, and several other Narnians. Captain Jack Sparrow stumbled off lastly off of the Dawn Treader, seemingly drunk already. Jules and Lassiter showed up in a fashionable Mustang, both wearing dark sunglasses. Arthur and Morgana rode in the backseat. Another car pulled up, this time a brand-new Audi, and Tom and Bill Kaulitz stepped out. No matter the difference of their fictional, or nonfictional, origins, all characters seemed to be at peace with each other. It was as if for today, and probably today only, everyone had signed a unanimous agreement to temporarily forget their differences for the sake of Taryn's birthday party. Either that, or Merlin had somehow been involved—which Taryn didn't doubt.

"I picked out the theme," bragged Shawn to Taryn, offering an explanation for the strange dress code—which seemed to be a dark indigo hooded cape that every guest was wearing. "Kind of cultish but classy, don't you think? The hoods were Merlin's idea, I don't know _what _he was thinking. That fad went out way back in B.C."

The first event of the evening was greeting the party guests. There was an vast number of people whom Taryn had dreamed, crushed on, and written about over the years. And now, most of them were standing in front of her, hugging her, kissing her hand, and wishing her a very happy birthday. It was a tad overwhelming, and just a little embarrassing, but Taryn kept her fangirling to a minimum. Though when Hawkeye came in as the last guest, apologizing for being so late—Legolas and he had competing to see who would achieve the most bull's-eyes, only to find that one could not beat the other—Taryn found it hard to contain her squealing.

King Arthur of Camelot paced back and forth as he debated how to go about greeting Taryn. He had heard a lot about her from the others, and wanted to make the very best impression. The people here weren't just anybody—she obviously had expectations. What was the proper way to greet a modern girl such as herself?

The twins Kaulitz noticed the nervous figure in the corner, and exchanging smirks, approached the King.

"We know what you should say to her," said Tom, and Arthur looked up with surprise. Was it that obvious that he was at a loss for words?

"The best way to impress a lady is by speaking in a foreign language, you know," added Bill, not even bothering to hide his mischievous grin.

"Well, technically, I'm speaking Old English right now. It's a wonder any of you can understand me," replied Arthur thoughtfully, and then shook his head. He was thinking too hard—he needed to focus on how he was going to introduce himself without sounding like a total moron.

"Alright—what should I say?" he asked them finally, and the twins looked at each other with glee. Yet another person was about to fall for the Kaulitz-Translation-Trap, known to interviewers as a cause of certain embarrassment and confusion.

"Tell her this," said Tom quietly, and then proceeded to whisper the supposed flattering phrase into Arthur's ear when he was sure that Taryn's back was turned. Arthur repeated this back to his companions several times, receiving corrections and repeats until he was able to pronounce it nearly perfect.

"What does it mean, again?" he asked them, and the twins quickly looked at each other, debating how to answer.

"It's really nice, you know—like, 'Hey sunshine!' or something like that," Bill lied convincingly, and Tom supported this explanation with an excited nod. This seemed to convince the King, and with confidence, he made his way over to the special girl. This would beat making Merlin go get flowers for her, any day. Where was that lousy excuse for a servant, anyway? He better not be at the tavern again.

The Kaulitz twins giggled quietly to themselves as Arthur strutted over to Taryn, telling her in a confident, sexy voice, "Dearest Taryn—I wish you a very happy birthday, and zeig mir deine Pflaume."

Taryn's eyes widened. There were only two people she knew who would have taught him that. Not wanting to embarrass the over-confident king, she replied, "Um, thank you for that erm… sentiment, it was very… straight-forward." Arthur seemed satisfied with this, and bowed to her, kissing the back of her hand.

As soon as her conversation with Arthur had ended, Taryn made her way over to her two conniving guests, hand on her hip. "Are you two corrupting my guests?" she said, trying to sound angry, but the way the two were beaming made this impossible.

The twins exchanged feigned looks of innocence. "Who? Us?" they asked, and then laughed together, and Taryn found it hard not to join in with them. Noticing the black veil that hid Bill's face from her view, she finally addressed the singer.

"Bill, why can I never see your face? Whenever I dream about you, you're always hiding from me," she said, unable to stand this treatment any longer. Bill remained her favorite member of the band, yet in her dreams he seemed to be the most evasive. Every time she saw him, he would turn his face away, or be hidden behind a screen, or run away from her. She was a determined Lightsider, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain so when she was asleep.

"He's just really shy. Like, it's really hard for him to show you his face because, you know—you're like, so sexy and he's so ugly," said Tom smoothly, though Taryn could tell he wasn't being honest from the dirty look Bill shot Tom beneath the dark veil.

"_Really shy_? I doubt that. This is _Bill _were talking about. No, really. Why do you always hide your face from me?"

Bill glanced nervously at Tom, who finally nodded his consent. He told her in a low voice, "I'm not even really supposed to be in your dreams, _she_ forbids it. But I sneak in, so that I can see you. I just have to make sure not to show my face, you know, to be here in secret and whatever."

"Wait—who's _she_?"

Bill looked at her incredulously, "Your subconscious—she hates you"

"Ja, she wants to take you to the Darkside," Tom added, his face somber. But instantly, his serious composure melted into a smirk. "Not that there's anything wrong with coming to the Darkside."

Taryn growled. "I knew it!"

"Well, I sure didn't. Who would have guessed that the combination of cream and pig bladder was actually considered a delicacy in small European villages in the 500's?" said Shawn, coming into the conversation with ease, as if he had been there the entire time. The three looked at him, unsure how to answer that statement. "Fun facts with Arthur," he explained.

The potential awkwardness of the moment was avoided by Gus and Merlin's announcement that cake was being served. Now, an entire table was covered in cakes of all different shapes and sizes, flavors and colors. What followed was the group singing of Happy Birthday to Taryn, and much eating of cake.

The remainder of the evening was spent doing other party activities that the tag team of Merlin, Shawn, and Gus had planned. There was a karaoke session, in which several guests dedicated their songs to Taryn, hoping that the words would speak to her. The Hobbits preformed a quartet of Enya's _May It Be_, and Shawn preformed _My Heart Will Go On_, belting out an impressive falsetto.

Upon receiving a compliment from Merlin, Shawn replied, "Nope, that wasn't even close to reaching your falsetto." The warlock was pleasantly surprised to hear such complimentary words from Shawn's usually sarcastic mouth. The psychic explained to Taryn later, "I heard him singing _Baby_ in the shower the other day—I think he has a little bro crush."

There was lots of dancing after the karaoke session, and the guest all took turns dancing with Taryn. The rest of the evening flew by all too fast. Before she could fully register all that had happened, the hour grew late, and guests had to leave. They said tearful, dramatic goodbyes, wishing her a very happy future, and telling her to get on with her writing—because they were all waiting to find out what would happen to them. Hawkeye was especially insistent. (Yes, that was a nudge right there.)

After what seemed like a lifetime gone by in the flash of an instant, the last of the party guests finally left. In one stretch of his fingers, Merlin made the decorations, tables, and leftovers vanish, returning everything to whatever had summoned them.

Taryn dreaded Shawn and Merlin turning to her, for she knew that when they did that this was to be the end of it. She would be sent back home she was sure, and would probably find this all to be nothing but a convoluted, lucid dream.

But the moment came, and she showered them with hugs, tearful glances, sincere compliments, and repetitive thank-yous. "Best birthday ever," she sighed, and determinedly blinked back bittersweet tears.

"Do you think this all a dream, Taryn?" the warlock asked her, his blue eyes boring into hers.

"Well," she trailed off, unsure of how to respond. She glanced away. It felt very weird—and yes, offensive—to be admitting her disbelief in front of him. I mean, here she was, telling _Merlin _that she didn't believe him to be real.

But then, as she glanced over to Shawn, who was giving her a genuine smile, and Merlin, who's eyes had never seemed more sincere, Taryn couldn't be sure it _wasn't_ real. "No," she finally answered, but then bit her lip, a bit anxious, "But I am afraid—

"Afraid? Don't be, Taryn. Never be," replied Merlin, and he took her hands gently in his own. The girl blushed, but smiled. Bravely, she looked up to face the warlock, aware that her face was probably turning crimson. At the moment, she didn't care.

"Are you ready?" he asked her quietly.

Although every fiber of her being screamed that she was not prepared to go home, and that she wasn't entirely sure if she ever wanted to go home, she answered, "Yes."

Again, for the second time that day, Taryn felt the sensation that she was being dragged away from the world in which she stood, and far away to another place. But now she was not falling—she felt the opposite, as if she was traveling up through the sky, forever and ever. Images of Merlin's blue eyes and Shawn's smile floated through her mind, swirling into a pool of unconsciousness.

Her eyes flew open, and she felt her surroundings cautiously. The ceiling above her was white, and covered in horse posters. Yes, she was back in her room. Slowly, as if in denial, she rose onto her elbows. A sinking feeling rushed over her, so much that she thought perhaps she would cry. Which would have felt very babyish, but at the same time, her waking up confirmed suspicions she had had throughout the entirety of her adventure—it was all a dream, a figment of her imagination. Nothing had been real. Of course nothing had been real! How could she have thought such a ludicrous thing?

For a few moments, Taryn closed her eyes, wishing this life was a dream, and the dream had been real life. Her eyes opened again finally, sadly looking around her room. As she glanced over to her dressed morbidly, she let out a half cry, half squeal as her eyes narrowed on the objects sitting on it. No way. She stared for a good while, before finally reaching out a finger, not being able to have faith without being able to touch it—for she knew she could no longer trust what she could see.

Lana appeared in her doorway. "Oh, you're awake—finally. You better hurry downstairs if you want any of the pancakes Dad made."

Taryn managed to respond, saying that she would be down soon. After her little sister had left the room, a broad grin spread over her face. She supposed she should make her way out of bed, and get dressed. And pancakes did sound appetizing. Now that she thought about it, she was quite hungry. A happiness filled her in that moment, and she knew that today would be a good day. Looking at the calender, she saw that today was, in fact, her birthday. And a happy birthday it would be most definitely.

But for a moment, the fact that she was back in her room, nor that it was her birthday, nor even the lure of a pancake breakfast could break her from her own world. For the moment, she was entranced by the wonder of her joy; all she could do was stare at her dresser, where a pineapple was perched with a red neckerchief wrapped around it.

_The End?_

**Thanks for reading! It was so much fun to write this. Hope it induced feels and laughs. :)**

**Cover art drawn originally by Define X, btw.**


End file.
